While waiting for my realtor to show up to take photos of the winter wonderland where my house is nestled, I attacked the office: the desk, the files, the chest of drawers parading as a guest nicety but filled with papers and finally, the closet. The closet is big, and we've crammed it full of papers, computer equipment, upright files and a few legitimate items such as bed linens for our guests. I spent three hours at this task, turning a neat room into a war zone. The closet is bare but the rest of the room is piled with shreddables, memorabilia, computer equipment--a dangling life.
I love to purge. We're buying a shredder this weekend and I'm gleefully going to mulch the past. There's a lot to save, too, including my kids' artwork, writings, old health records, report cards, many books, love letters to my husband, portfolio pieces I've written over the years, including a thick folder erupting with poems I wrote back in my darker days. I can't wait to sift through those ashes.
The computer pile is waiting for Marty to inspect. There's a huge box of junk that we moved here from Costa Rica, a tangle of wires and disks and whatnot. Next to the box is a scanner, three hard drives, more wires and enough software to sell on ebay except it's obsolete. I'm hoping he can part with most of this junk. Am I crazy to give him a choice? This is a man who cuts wires and plugs off electronics in case he'll need them for a future project.
Between the cords and the memories, the literal and the figurative have come together in a way I appreciate. The computer mess keeps my blood pressure up and the mementos take me back to a time where there was no leukemia, a time where there was just the wonder of my family, the fuzzy future, and my husband's hording of the once-upon-a-time useful, and now-that-the-future is here, tossable.